Welcome to Motor City Burning: World of Darkness online role playing game. Due to the graphic, predatory nature of the violence and adult activities Kindred, Hunters, and the Created take part in, we require all players to be 18 years of age or older. If you are at least 18 and would like to play with us, hit the "Register" key and come on in!

But then I wonder if perhaps I am not already there. Where is there? Crazy town of course; silly. I hold werewolves at gunpoint and have sex with them. Lycans, some people call them, but I think that’s because of that those Underworld films. So I call them werewolves, because I like that old school shit. That sounds crazy, I know. Sometimes even thinking it seems crazy, like the last year was just one bad dream, and I keep getting this feeling that any moment now I am going to just wake up and everything’s going to be ok. Still, I wouldn’t wager any chick bones on it.

The beginning. Well not the beginning but [b] a [/a] beginning. I murdered my friend Amber Lee last year, during the summer. We had both just graduated high school and were thinking hard about which of the local community colleges we could afford on our Burger Town budgets. She got attacked by a big dog, though I guess in retrospect it must have been a wolf, but it wasn’t that serious, and then at a party in Mr. Tucker’s field her cousin Al Townsend got a little to frisky with her, and I guess something snapped. She turned into a werewolf and started killing like everyone. She got me in the arm with a swipe and I just played dead but Al, Billy, Gina and Mr. Tucker’s oldest boy Richard all got dead.

The sheriff’s department said it was a bear attack, even though we was down in Texas and there aren’t any bears. And I know what I saw. ‘Course Amber Lee was never seen again, not by official reports. But I knew the girl, knew her better then anyone. I staked out the TJ-Max down in the city, her favorite place for cheap shopping with good pickings. On the fourth day she showed up, wearing a dress that looked like it was fresh off the bargain rack at Wal-Mart. A big feller that looked like a biker was with em.

After they was done shopping I followed em to an old factory outside of the city. My Grandpa had worked there for fifty years before the company had shut its doors and moved overseas where the chinks would do the work half as cheap. The place was massive. Another pickup and a couple of bikes was parked out front, and I got the impression they meant to stick by so I turned around and went home.

Over the next month I convinced my Daddy to take me down to the range when ever he wasn’t workin. I told him I wanted to be able to defend myself, incase I ever got happened on by a grizzly again and my dad, well he was just happy as a clam to show me how to shoot. Daddy always wanted a boy but Mom gave him three little girls instead, so teaching me to shoot was a treat for him.

When my daddy was working I started hanging out more with my uncle’s neighbors boy Jake. He was real interested in hunting and shit and taught me how to like use a stick to track and a lot of other real interesting stuff I never cared about. With a six pack of my Daddy’s Miller Light and a blow job I convinced Jake to make some silver bullets for me out of some of the jewelry my Great Aunt Flo had left me when she died. He made me sixteen 12 gauge shells loaded with little silver balls.

I got an old pump shotty from my cousin Ed, it wouldn’t win any beauty contests but he had taken good care of it. With my special bullets and my gun, I took to watchin those fellers who Amber Lee was runnin with. A telescope I’d been bought when I was little and never used much proved to be just what the doctor ordered for spying on the wolfies.

Including Amber Lee there were four of them. The Big fellow I’d seen before, plus a skinny little nerdy one that looked like some kinda faggoty city queer and a Texican with what looked like gang tat’s all over his arms and chest. I watched them and followed them for about two weeks before I felt like I was ready.

I killed the big feller first, figuring his was the Alpha male and that if any of em was gonna come up with a plan once I started my killin, it was him. The big nasty liked to go down to the Highway Motel, a seedy little joint with ten rooms and as many girls who worked its little bar. Everyone knew they wasn’t nothing but a bunch of pussy workin it for cash. I didn’t want the workin gals to give my description to the cops so I wore this old red hoody I’d gotten freshman year; It wasn’t the best camouflage but it was the only hoody I owned. I made a mask outa some white washed cardboard and drew a smily face on it with sharpie, punching out holes so I could see.

It was getting on past midnight when the biker finished his business and went for his bike. I had poured half a bottle of superglue down the key hole previously, and in his frustration he didn’t even notice me until I was like thirty feet off.

“Who the hell is you supposed to be, little red riding hood?” the big fuck asked as he slid off the bike. “Cause your fixin to find out all kinds of information ‘bout the big bad wolf if you don’t point that scatter gun somewhere else.”

I smiled behind my mask; the outfit suddenly seemed a lot more clever. And then I shot him. He came at me then, all words forgotten. To his credit, he was movin pretty fast for someone with their side all tore up. He leapt at me and I fired again. He hit the ground, skin starting to swell and shit even as fur started comin out everywhere. I guess he was just about fixing to turn into a werewolf then so I put another in him, real close range like, and he quite movin. My forth shot I fired from so close I was almost touchin his face with the barrel, and damn me if he didn’t get blood all over my clothes.

I killed the nerdy fag next, called him up from his sisters cellphone. Turned out she lived down in the city and he liked to visit. I told her I had the little slut captive and he’d best come alone or else. I still don’t know what he was thinking, actually comin like that. Must not have watched enough of those Hollywood flicks to know a trap, but that worked for me. Amber Lee was the third and the hardest for me. She cried, and I felt real bad like since she looked just like my old best friend. But I knew what she had done to those people and hell if I was going to let something like that happen again. I did what I had to do.

The Mexican was the last, and he left me some scars to remember them mean old doggies by. I still have scars on my left arm from his big ole teeth. I wore my mask and hoody on all the killings, the hoody cause the irony of a red hood when your killin wolves is just to much fun, and the mask, well that’s harder to explain. See I aren’t a violent person, and what I did I did cause of what happened to those kids, hell what almost happened to me. But when I did those things from behind the mask, it was almost like someone else was doing them, and I was just watchin. It was like a scary movie, and I was scared, but not as scared as I woulda been without the mask, I think. And when I was done with the killin I could just take the mask off and it was like I hadn’t killed my best friend or that slick city queers sister.

So I kept the mask, and the hoody. I left town with maybe three hundred bucks and my shotgun. With the four murders in town everyone was in a fright and I read about a month later, in a big city newspaper, that they suspected me to be a fifth victim, since no one had seen me in a while.

I got a job as a stripper, shaking my ass at some seedy dive just outside Dallas. A fake ID I bought off some college kid wasn’t questioned. I don’t know what I planned to do at first, now that I had done had my vengeance but something about all that was addictive. I started looking for other wolves, though I wasn’t sure how to find them or if I would find any in a city. Reading some forums full of weirdoes lead me to another discovery. Other Hunters.

Some was dumber then hell, talking bout all sorts of crazy shit. The ones that told me about Vampires, which I believe to be real despite never havin seen one, were going after one with stakes, crosses and super soakers full of holy water and crushed garlic, I shit you not. For people who is supposed to be so smart, city folks can be pretty fuckin stupid. None of them had guns. So I listened to what they had to tell me, and did my own thing. I met another bunch of good ole red necks that hunted wolves and ran with them for about three months. The wolves they were stalking were nothing like the ones I killed. They had guns and body armor and acted a lot smarter. It made me realize how lucky I had been. We killed two of them, and I saw three of these men die when the other wolves tracked us back to base and retaliated. I skipped town again after that, and bought me a better fake ID.

I don’t know what I want to do now, but I know I don’t want to quit. I have gotten better, but this is a lot more dangerous then I first suspected.

:::OOC:::

“Red” is crazy. When she saw Amber turn the delirium induced by were wolves didn’t take full hold of the girl, but something still broke. She has murdered four werewolves and helped kill two more. She has also killed almost a dozen people that those wolves associated with, even if those people had no idea that their friends and family were monsters.

She has two faces, one is a laid back girl who takes her clothes off for money and sells her virtue perhaps a bit cheaply. She loves to drink, cracks a lot of jokes and generally fun to hang out with, that is if a drunken slut is your idea of someone who is fun to be around.

However when she puts her mask and hoody on, Red becomes something entirely different. Life becomes a very bloody horror flick, and Red comes to think of herself as an audience member. It isn’t her torturing that teenage boy to find out where his uncle, whom she suspects of being a werewolf, lives. It’s someone else, and she is just there to watch. Hunting gets he blood pumping, even if she is only stalking a potential target or convincing a gun store owner to make her a box of silver rounds. The real thrill for Red though is the dangerous bits, when she is actually hunting her prey. Those moments are so intense, so exciting for her that there is no way she would ever seriously consider stopping.

Red’s craziness does not make her sloppy, however. She is nothing if not cautious, and fully realizes that her actions, while completely justified in her own eyes, might be seen as serial murder in the eyes of those who “don’t know”. Still she has watched enough true crime shows and done enough independent research that she knows how to cover her tracks decently well. She also practices a lot, spending most of her money on weapons, ammo or range time. She works out fanatically, not only because she is obsessed with being thin and attractive, but also because she wants to be strong enough to hunt the creatures of the night. Also, she is much more interested in working with a cell now, having realized how lucky she was in the beginning, and having seen how quickly a group of were wolves can rip apart even well prepared and well armed hunters.